


Fortunate Misfortunes

by spnblargh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3427223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnblargh/pseuds/spnblargh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the job interview Dean's been waiting for his entire life. As fate would have it, however, it's time for everything to go disastrously wrong. At least there's a handsome construction worker around to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortunate Misfortunes

**Author's Note:**

> sycophantcas gave me the prompt: "Dean going for a job interview and gets lost on the way to the room. He encounters Benny."

Dean Smith is just about ready to scream.

Three days ago, he got the call for an interview at Sandover, literally _the_ place to work at if you want to make it in the business world. There'll be long hours and tyrannical bosses, sure, but the pay cheque is more than generous. It's the kind of job he needs for a nicer place; finally move out of his shoebox apartment with its terrible plumbing and chronic roach problem. 

He's been hopping from internship to internship for close to a year now. For many of his fellow alumni, they're in the same boat, but there are also plenty who managed to snag full-time work within weeks after graduation. He's desperate for the money, to start building up his CV, but he's been at a relative standstill for months now.

Then, out of the blue, he got the call. _Great!_ he thought. This was it, his big break. This would be the interview that would define his career.

When he woke up this morning, however, the world must have decided overnight that it was time to completely screw with Dean Smith.

First, his shower was ice cold, the plumbing acting up for the thousandth time. Then, during breakfast, he burnt his tongue on his coffee on the first sip. No big deal. Minor inconveniences, yes, but certainly not the end of the world.

Of course, then he went to start his car, and after sputtering pathetically, the engine fell silent. He turned the keys desperately, but the car was a no-go. Much like his apartment, it was in much need of an upgrade. 

"Shit, shit, shit," he cursed and jogged out of the garage, heading for the bus stop two blocks down.  

He reached it just as a bus is pulling off the curb, and no amount of frantic waving slows it down. Sweat coated his back, and he looked up just in time to see a bunch of kids laughing at him from the back of the bus. 

Well, fuck you too.

A solid ten minutes later, Dean is finally boarding a cramped bus full of weary commuters and energetic school children. It's peak hour and the bus has far too many more stops to get through before it reaches his.  

That brings him to the here and now, rocking side to side with the traffic, a whirlwind of panic spinning in the back of his mind. His watch reads 8:46, and when he checks again it ticks over to 8:50. He bounces his foot up and down, trying to ease some of his agitation. He doesn't want to be late _and_ irritable for his interview.

Finally, at 8:55, he's flying off the bus before the doors have even opened properly. Thirty seconds later, he's jogging through the entrance to Sandover, and thirty seconds after that, he's riding the elevator up to level 7, the designated "Management" level according to the sign downstairs. 

The world just cannot cut him a break, however. When the elevator opens, he's greeted by plastic drapes and knocked out walls, signs of a large scale renovation in progress.

Dean stands there, utterly lost. He doesn't dare check his watch. God, does he have time to go back downstairs to ask at reception? They'd know, surely, but _damn it_ , he doesn't have time... 

"Everything alright?" 

He blinks, suddenly aware of a rather large, attractive man standing in front of him. The man is donned in a blue collar uniform, his shirt stained with white paint and bits of plaster. He's staring at Dean with kind blue eyes, a friendly smile covered in a thick layer of stubble.

"I, uh-" He swallows, finding himself strangely speechless. Damn it, Winchester, the interview! _The interview!_ "I have an interview with Mr Adler, I thought his office would be up here―"

"Ah, yeah, normally it would be. I'm in charge of the renovations on this level." He wipes the back of his hand against his forehead. "Management's relocated to level five for the time being."

"Level 5?" He exhales shakily. "Okay, thanks. Shit..." He palms his face anxiously. "I'm so late."

"I know Mr. Adler," the man says, his voice warm and comforting. "He's a hardass, but he can't be on time to save his life." He smiles. "You'll be fine, if you hurry."

Dean nods gratefully before smacking the Down button. The elevator doors ding open. "Thanks for your help," Dean says.

The man huffs a laugh. "Any time. And try and relax!" he calls, just as the doors are starting to close. "You've got this!"

Dean smiles, the first one he's managed all day.

\---

Dean's two minutes late but Mr Adler doesn't show up for another ten. 

The interview goes alarmingly well. In fact, he gets hired right on the spot.

Dean wanders out of Mr Adler's office like he's sleep walking, hardly able to believe that this is real life. He's got a job; a proper well-paying job. He's starting next week. He won't have to live with his shitty plumbing anymore.

He catches the elevator downstairs and heads out onto the street, his feet dragging just a little. He's tired from all the running he's done today ― when's the last time he went to the gym, anyway? ― but there's a great big grin on his face. 

His stomach growls as he's passing a tiny sandwich shop tucked between two twelve storey buildings. His feet carry him into the store before he can stop himself, and as he's perusing the menu, he's hit by a rather spontaneous thought.

He orders two sandwiches, one turkey and one ham. That spontaneity guides him back into Sandover and leads him up to level 7, something nervous squirming in his gut.

The man from earlier is sitting on a stool just to the left of the elevator. He's busy chomping on an apple, but glances up when Dean approaches.

"Well, we meet again," the man greets him. "How'd that interview go?"

"I got hired," Dean says, that smile still firmly fixed on his face. "Thank you."

"Naw, don't go thanking me, brother." He waves a hand. "You nailed that interview. I'm not taking any credit for that."

"Then at least take one of these." Dean offers him both sandwiches. "I've got turkey and ham. Take your pic."

The man's eyes widen with surprise. "That's awfully nice if you. I dunno if I can take one."

"Ah, come on," Dean says, adding a slightly flirtation twist to his smile. "You're a big guy. You gotta eat, right?"

The man chuckles. "Ain't that right. What's your name?"

"Dean, Dean Smith. You?"

"I'm Benny Lafitte," he tells him, grinning. "Nice to meet ya, Dean."

"Same here. Now come on, quit stalling," Dean says, shaking the sandwich bags pointedly. "Pick one."

"Hm, alright," he answers, a curious twinkle in his eye. "I'll choose one, but only if you'll join me for lunch." He drags another stool closer to him, patting the seat. "I won't bite, promise. We got a deal?"

Dean grins. "Deal."


End file.
